Chapter Four
Reed watched his little blond pixie shake hands with Logan, the best man he’d met a little over an hour ago. He’d seemed a decent sort, but Reed suddenly couldn’t stand the sight of him. Not with the way she looked up at him, a flirtatious smile playing at the edges of her lips. She, being the one who’d been putting him through an excruciating round of torture ever since she let him pull her hair out on the patio, forcing a sexy-as-hell sob from her delicious-looking mouth. Now her smooth, mile-long legs were on display for every male in the vicinity to ogle and fantasize about. It wasn’t working for him.
He’d been dreading the idea of this loud party. Making small talk with people he’d likely never see again once this week ended. He’d even considered heading back to his room and waiting for a less formal event to make his entrance. The last thing he’d expected was a blond bombshell to moan her way into his head, making him hard as a rock in the process.
She’d run away from him too soon, disappearing before he could ask her…what exactly? If she’d be willing to hike that dress a little higher and let him see how long those legs went on for? He’d love to ask her that question. Just to see if she’d give him that same sexy pout she’d intended as a set-down outside. The one that turned him on like hell instead.
Matter of fact, her dress did seem shorter than it had on the patio. Was it his imagination or had she hiked it up to drive him insane?
If she gave him the slightest encouragement, he’d have sucked that pouty lower lip between his teeth so he could swallow her next moan. Explain to her in no uncertain terms the effect her legs were having on him and every man inside the goddamn restaurant, before tugging the dress up over her hips and giving her a physical demonstration.
Such urgent need for one particular woman was completely unlike him. His outward demeanor warned off all but a certain type of woman and she did not, in any way, shape, or form, fit that description. Reed’s tastes tended toward women who could take a little manhandling. Begged for it, even. Oftentimes, women sensed his overwhelming need for control, struggling to be let loose inside him, and they approached him first. Being that Reed preferred keeping his conquests impersonal, fast and hard suited him perfectly. So did never looking back.
This being the case, the fact that he’d felt a flare of panic when she’d run from him didn’t sit well. He’d actually battled the urge to go after her. His desire to return to his room had ceased to be a possibility. Instead, he’d rounded the building and entered the Osprey Lounge, already anxious to see her again. Those gorgeous legs, elegantly crossed, had drawn his eye immediately and he hadn’t looked away once since then.
With her manicured hand resting on Logan’s forearm, she tossed back her head and laughed, flawless skin catching the candlelight. His fingers curled into his palm and squeezed. First, when the hell had he started noticing trivial details like candlelight? Second, she might not be his type, but if she didn’t stop laughing and flashing those wide blue eyes up at Golden Boy, he was going to carry her out of the lounge draped over his shoulder kicking and screaming.
It had been a long time since he’d felt his control slipping. He’d left that aspect of his personality behind him long ago before joining the force in Atlanta. After shedding his hell-raiser image, his energy had been channeled into work. Nothing riled him. Until her. Hell, he didn’t even know her name and had only spent a few minutes with her. What the hell was the matter with him?
“Easy now, big boy,” his best friend Brock drawled at his elbow. “There are enough bridesmaids for each and every one of us poor, wretched souls.” He tipped back his beer, eyes full of humor. “How would you feel about a midweek swap?”
Reed jerked his chin toward the pixie. “Name.”
“Now, how would I know? We haven’t been here but five minutes.”
He cast a skeptical look at his friend, who rarely entered a room without gathering stats on every available female.
Brock rolled his eyes. “Julie Piper. Maid of honor. Five foot…six? Hard to tell in those heels. Cute little peach of a thing, ain’t she?”
Reed grunted. “No swaps.”
“Hell, you’re no fun.” Brock feigned disappointment. “You planning on letting her sweet-talk Logan all night or you going to make a move?”
Julie’s gaze collided with his before flitting away once more. The simple look had the aftereffect of a sucker punch to the jaw. “When I’m ready. She’s not going anywhere with him.”
“Is that right? I know a woman with a plan when I see one.” He tipped his beer bottle in Julie’s direction. “That one’s got a plan.”
Reed’s eyes narrowed on Julie and admitted Brock had a point. She’d started shifting on her feet like she stood on hot coals. Her fluttery hand gestures were growing more dramatic by the second. As if on cue, he watched as her hand covered a momentarily distracted Logan’s room key where it sat on their shared table, and slid it neatly into her purse. Reed’s entire body tensed.
“Told you.”
“It’s not f*cking happening.”
Brock checked his watch. “You better work fast. Women with plans wait for no man.”
“Says the expert.”
“Hate to brag.”
Goddammit. How the hell had he ended up at some ritzy resort wearing loafers, lusting after some sorority girl? Just this morning, he’d fallen into bed at 3:00 a.m. after his SWAT team, of which he’d recently been promoted to commander, performed a middle-of-the-night arrest in the College Park section of Atlanta. He’d been filthy, exhausted, and slightly more jaded than when he’d left the house that morning. Just the way he liked it. He was here because his best friend was getting married; otherwise he wouldn’t be within ten feet of this many suits.
He owed Colton. That’s why he was here. Since he didn’t have the ability to articulate how much the other man’s friendship had meant to him all those years ago, he would grin and bear the endless parade of hors d’oeuvres and stock market talk.
And come hell or high water, he’d have the girl.
As Reed’s mind began formulating and discarding different ways to keep Julie from her obvious plan to sneak into Logan’s room later in the evening, apart from threatening Logan with bodily harm that is, his cop’s sense began picking up on other dramas playing out in the lounge. Tyler, the bride’s brother, had fallen deathly silent upon walking in, eventually grumbling some excuse to leave. Sophie, Colton’s little sister, had cast a couple nervous glances toward Logan before slipping out of the restaurant like a ninja. The best man looked too tired to even notice. That made him feel marginally better about him rising to the occasion with Julie, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
A flashy brunette entered his line of vision, interrupting his train of thought. She looked almost as out of place as Reed felt, her expensive clothing and citified demeanor belonging far away from the mountains of Colorado. When the newcomer smiled up at him, Reed tossed a quick look over her shoulder and watched Julie tense. Good. She wasn’t as indifferent as she let on.
Reed raised an eyebrow at the brunette. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Regan. You don’t know me but I’m about to become your favorite person in the world,” she said without disrupting her smile. “Give me your room key.”
“Come again?”
“It’s not for me. Although you should be so lucky.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and held out her hand. “You’re just going to have to trust me.”
Brock, edging in between them, held his hand out toward Regan. “It’s nice to meet you, sweetheart. I’m Brock.”
“There’s nothing sweet about me,” she responded with a mocking smile, then looked back at Reed. “You’ve got five seconds. Five…four…”
“Women with plans,” Brock muttered beside him.
Reed reached into his pocket and drew out the key. Eyes narrowed, he dropped it into Regan’s palm and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t like having orders tossed at him, but he was curious.
“Good choice,” she threw over her shoulder as she clicked away on her sky-high heels.
Reed and Brock watched in silence as Regan joined Julie and Logan’s conversation. With an arm draped over Julie’s shoulders, she appeared to be regaling them with a funny story. Reed couldn’t help but smile when her fingers slipped inside Julie’s purse and replaced his room key with Logan’s, just in time for her story to wrap up. Without a backward glance, she sailed off toward the bar.
“That’s one hell of a woman,” Brock remarked beside him.
“Careful. She’s trouble.”
“Uh-huh. The good kind.”
With a shake of his head, Reed turned his attention back to Julie, trying to decide how he felt about being on the receiving end of a seduction meant for someone else. She held a fresh glass of champagne in her hand and she’d started squinting at Logan as if she couldn’t see him quite clearly in her tipsy state. Why he found that trait…insanely cute…he couldn’t begin to imagine. What he didn’t find cute at all was the way she’d begun swaying toward Logan, using his arm for balance.
She’d clearly reached her limit for the night and Reed didn’t take advantage of women. But the alternative was someone else taking advantage of her, and he couldn’t allow that either. He’d let her come to him in the dark, thinking he was Logan. Then he’d erase Golden Boy from her memory completely.
When Julie said her good-byes and left the lounge, anticipation heated his belly. He tossed back the remaining third of his beer and headed for his room. To wait for his girl.